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I shiver, everywhere.
“This is unexpected.”
That’s when I notice there are already two drinks on the table. He picks up a bottle of Peroni, leaning back in his impeccable khaki shorts and white button-down. Sleeves rolled, of course.
“Vodka and club at a bar. Pinot Grigio at meals, in the summer. Cab in the winter.”
I didn’t drink at our meeting on Thursday, but he clearly remembers my answer to his question of what I would have ordered if I hadn’t been working.
When I don’t say anything, or move to take the white wine, he watches me.
“Too early in the day?”
“For a wine at lunch? No.”
“No Pinot here, but that’s a Muscadet. It’s similar.”
“Domaine de la Pépière?”
He nods.
“That’s usually what I get here.”
Hayden’s amusement is evident. “This is very déjà vu.”
I pick up the wine. “Maybe because you’re so high-handed?”
His brows rise. “High-handed. Thoughtful. Call it whatever you’d like.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So do you make a habit of inappropriately buying drinks for people?”
“No.”
His answer is so quick, I almost believe him.
I take a sip, knowing this conversation is about so much more than wine. He’s the devil, and I’m being led down a very illuminated path of temptation. It’s not like he’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.
We both know neither of us should be here.
Which is probably why I attempt to lighten it up.
“So you don’t like wine?”
He makes a face. “No. I’ve tried, trust me. It’s just not my thing. When we venture from beer to wine, that will be all Enzo.”
Shit. There’s no way around it. “We should probably avoid discussing Angel, Inc.”
Clearly amused, he doesn’t move. I’d call himRaised Richif he were a statue.
“Because this is purely a social visit?”
“It’s certainly not an official one,” I admit.
So there it is.
“I’m surprised.” He shakes his head at the waitress as she approaches. She turns away. “After you waited twenty-four hours to text, I didn’t expect you’d agree to meet me.”
I try to play it cool.
